Mayonnaise
by Pink Anon
Summary: Do you think Wily does his shopping on bad dragon? That's unrelated. This story is about a skype joke taken far too seriously, which is proof that I am clearly using my powers for evil and they must be repossessed. BassBlues, porn with a very serious plot because I only write very serious plots of course.


This is what gets him off, isn't it?

Blues doesn't normally do this thing, but it's fun to grind his hips against Bass's back, nuzzle his neck, moan his name softly— And just like that, Bass is stammering and screaming to get away, that he's not actually interested in this shit. Anyone with eyes could tell, though, that these protests were lies.

Granted, this isn't a particularly safe pastime. He nips the soft synthetic skin on Bass's neck, keeping his eyes on the younger robot's fists.

"G-God dammit," Bass hisses, grabbing a handful of Blues's hair and tugging it so sharply that Blues gasps in pain. "You said you weren't into that shit—!"

"I'm not," Blues says, a smile on his lips despite his head in a very uncomfortable position. That confidence alone causes Bass's face to twist in rage, silver brows knitting in annoyance.

"Then what are you—"

Blues acts quickly, sliding his hand lower on Bass's stomach and brushing his hips against Bass's lower back. Bass moans, leaning to the touch and writhing between Blues's knees.

"God fucking dammit," he hisses, loosening his grip on Blues's hair. "S-Stop teasing me!"

Blues presses his lips to the shell of Bass's ear, running his hands along Bass's pelvic guard. "So you don't like it?"

"Mmph— You're not going to follow up—" Man, it's so easy to turn this idiot on; he's probably half-hard behind that armor already. "S-So stop!"

Blues keeps his hands in place, but stops moving for a moment, listening to Bass pant. Then he bites Bass's earlobe. "What if I did? Would you like that?"

Bass holds his breath a moment, considering. "You don't even have anything…"

He smiles against Bass's ear, feeling the younger one shudder against him. "There's a few things I can do with my mouth, now aren't there?" There it is— a strangled gasp in the back of Bass's throat. Man, he could play this kid like an instrument.

"R-Really?"

"Just don't finish too early." Blues begins to push at the armor, but Bass is a higher-end model. The metal vanishes beneath his touch, as well as the rest of Bass's armor. "Forgot you could do that," Blues murmurs, biting back the urge to compare Bass to Rock; that would definitely kill the mood, now wouldn't it?

"It doesn't come off any other way." Bass grunts and thrusts his hips. Just as Blues suspected earlier, Bass is already half-hard from mere anticipation. Fucking kid. He drags his tongue across the skin of Bass's neck, surprised when Bass just grunts instead of screams.

"Easy there, tiger," Blues murmurs, rubbing his hand against Bass's erection. "Don't know if this old man can keep up with you."

"You're talking too much."

"Am I?" He squeezes a bit and Bass throws his head back against Blues's shoulder, howling. "Eager, are we?"

"F-Fuck!" Bass thrusts against Blues's hand, scrambling to get his body suit off.

"Fuck what?"

Most of the suit's off now, exposing Bass's body: an ugly, mechanical sight of waterproof casing and oases of black metal, assembled for functionality and not aesthetic. Not that any part of Bass could be considered aesthetically pleasing, though, particularly not that mechanical dick that's basically just a mess of sensors and wires and meshing underneath a clear layer of sealant.

"J-Just let me fuck your mouth already," Bass hisses.

"So demanding." Blues kisses his jawline. "You've no taste for foreplay—"

"Fuck foreplay!"

There's definitely eagerness in his tone, but underneath that is a definite threat. Blues knows this well enough; if he doesn't stop teasing Bass, someone's going to get shot. Smiling, he pecks Bass's cheek and then slips around him, breaking contact for a moment. He now has a better view of Bass's face, and it's definitely not a pretty sight. Aroused, the saw-mouthed asshole manages to look even uglier. Wily definitely was not thinking when he gave poor Bass shark teeth.

"Let me know before you cum, all right? I don't want your spooge in my throat." Not the sexiest thing to say, but nothing about this is really sexy, despite Bass being easier to turn on than a motion-sensor light.

Bass nods, curling his fingers in Blues's hair. "R-Right."

Blues runs his tongue across the glans, if it could even be called a glans with its weird pseudo-dick shape, and instantly Bass is howling again. Blues raises a brow up at him. Is the sensitivity hyped up on this thing, or does he have the stamina of an adolescent? He hopes to hell Bass has ___some _iota of self control, because really he doesn't know if Bass has cumtubes or not and he really honestly does not want to find out. Any novelty in this situation is gone, but he said he'd do it.

He starts sucking in earnest, not quite putting too much effort into it. He's definitely given better blowjobs to better cocks in the past, but hey, it's making Bass scream so maybe the kid's used to fucking pencil sharpeners or something. That's probably the only explanation.

It's kind of hard to gauge, honestly, when this'll be over; Blues knows that the average for humans tends to be seven minutes, though from experience he can deduce that sometimes—

OH FUCKING GOD NO.

He didn't expect less than three minutes, but he really should have. He pulls back, nearly tearing his hair out from an attempt to get away from the sudden rush of cum now hitting the back of his throat. He coughs it out, but it seems that's not the end of it; some of it splashes onto his face and he hisses angrily as his shades are now obscured by the most useless fluid to be ever put in a robot.

Wily and his ___fucking kinks._

Bass seems quite content to crow with orgasm, tugging at Blues's hair and not giving him a chance to wipe the cum off of his face. Finally his grip releases and Blues finds himself staring down at the mess and groaning.

"You fucking ___asshole_," he hisses, pushing Bass's hand off of him. Bass, caught in a reboot, doesn't quite speak.

Seems that there's a bottle of hand-lotion nearby, though. Blues takes his chance to strike, grabs the lotion, slaps a bit on a hand, and then reaches up to rub it all across Bass's face. Then he bolts, petty revenge achieved.

Also he wants to get this jizz out of his hair.

When he hits the bathroom, Blues hears an indignant cry from the other room. Snickering to himself, he wipes off his shades and lets Bass come to his own conclusions.


End file.
